Song for this chapter: Chris James - The Reminder on the multimedia.

_________

Juls

I sat in my apartment, the low hum of the city outside barely cutting through the silence that wrapped around me. The bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table, already half-empty, and my glass was nearly dry. I didn't know how long I'd been sitting there, staring at nothing, but the thoughts in my head were loud enough to drown out everything else.

It had been a long day, a long week. Hell, it had been a long few months ever since Sign came back into my life. But it wasn't just about Sign anymore. It was about Ivy. It was about everything spinning out of control.

I reached for the glass, the cold touch of the whiskey on my lips bringing me back, grounding me for just a moment. And then, without thinking too much about it, I pulled out my phone and grabbed Linc's business card from my wallet. I had kept it ever since Valentine's Day, stashed away like a reminder of everything unresolved between us.

For a moment, I just stared at the card, his name printed in clean, simple letters. Lincoln Campbell Smith. I didn't even know why I was doing this. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it was the weight of everything, but before I could talk myself out of it, I dialed the number.

It rang once.

It rang twice.

And then his voice came through, cold and distant, just like I remembered. "Hello?"

"Linc, it's Juls." My voice was rough, the alcohol making my words slower than usual. There was a pause on the other end, a long silence where I imagined him realizing who was calling him.

"Juls," he finally said, his tone flat. "What do you want?"

"Are you still in Manhattan?" I asked, leaning back against the couch. "I need to talk to you. Let's meet tonight."

Another pause. I could almost feel him weighing his options, probably wondering if he should just hang up. But eventually, he answered, "Where?"

I told him about a high-class bar I knew, somewhere quiet enough for a conversation but upscale enough to avoid any unwanted attention. Linc didn't argue, didn't ask why. He just agreed to meet me.

When I arrived at the bar, the low, ambient lighting and the polished wood of the bar gave off a quiet, exclusive feel. I ordered a drink and settled into one of the leather booths, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation. But there were things that needed to be said. Things that had been hanging between us ever since Ivy came into the picture.

The minutes ticked by, and I kept checking the door, wondering if he'd actually show up. Linc wasn't the kind of guy to do things on anyone else's terms, but this was about more than just us now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Linc walked in. He looked just as he always did—cold, controlled, with an air of detachment that had always pissed me off. He spotted me quickly, made his way over, and slid into the booth across from me without a word.

"You're drinking already," he remarked, eyeing my glass. His voice was neutral, but there was a slight edge to it, like he was already bracing for whatever I was about to say.

I shrugged. "Figured I'd need it."

Linc flagged down a waiter, ordered himself a drink, and then turned his attention back to me, his blue eyes sharp and unreadable. "So, what's this about?"

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table as I met his gaze. "This is about Ivy," I said, my words steady but heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. "And Sign."

His drink arrived, and he took a sip before setting the glass down. Linc raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Go on."

I leaned forward, my voice low but steady. "Sign wasn't just some ex to me. I dated her for eight years. Eight years. Those years—they were everything to me. She's the reason I'm the man I am today. She shaped me in ways you'll never understand."

Linc's expression didn't change. If anything, he seemed more distant, like none of this mattered to him. And that pissed me off, but I kept going.

"I've loved her, Linc. Even after we broke up, I couldn't stop. She's been through a lot these past years, and if you're doing all this—marrying her, forcing her into this life—for revenge or to hurt her, then I'm asking you, don't. Don't do that to her."

Linc finally spoke, but his tone was cold, dripping with sarcasm. "Ah, so you were 'that' ex." He gave a slight, dismissive shrug, like I was nothing. "That's cute."

The way he said it—like I was some meaningless footnote in Sign's life—hit me hard, but I stayed calm, even though the anger was boiling inside me. I knew Linc was testing me, pushing my buttons.

"I'm not 'that' ex anymore," I said, locking eyes with him. "I've changed, and I still care about her. You can't just walk in and turn her life upside down for your own agenda. Sign's been through enough."

Linc leaned back, his expression unchanging, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe. He took another slow sip of his drink before speaking. "And you think I don't know that?" His voice was low, his words sharper now. "You think I don't understand what she's been through? I was raised by a single mom. I know exactly what kind of life she's had to deal with, and I'm grateful to her for being a great mom to Ivy."

For a moment, I thought maybe I was getting through to him, but then his tone shifted again—harder, angrier. "But that doesn't change the fact that she hid my daughter from me for years. She lied. You don't get to just brush that under the rug."

I could see the anger in his eyes now, the frustration bubbling up, and I knew he wasn't going to back down. He was pissed, and honestly, so was I.

"And whatever's happening between Sign and me," Linc continued, his voice rising just slightly, "is none of your damn business. You had your time with her. Now, it's my turn. And whether you like it or not, that's the reality."

I clenched my fists under the table, trying to keep my cool. This wasn't how I wanted this to go, but Linc was making it impossible to get through to him.

"I'm just saying," I said, keeping my voice calm despite the tension in my chest, "if you're doing this out of anger, out of spite, don't. She's already been hurt enough."

Linc's jaw tightened. "I know that. But she made her choices, and now we're all dealing with the consequences." He leaned forward, his voice icy. "So stay out of it, Juls. This isn't your fight."

The silence between us stretched, thick and uncomfortable. I wanted to keep pushing, to make him see reason, but I could tell Linc wasn't going to listen. He was too far gone in his anger, too focused on what he saw as betrayal.

And the worst part? I couldn't blame him for that.

I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Linc was still sitting across from me, that same indifferent look on his face, as if nothing I said or asked could faze him. I wasn't finished yet.

"How's Nat?" I asked, casually, but I couldn't hide the concern in my voice. "You work with her. You'd know how she's been, right? Is she eating on time? Taking care of herself?"

Linc's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he shrugged, the nonchalance in his tone unmistakable. "How would I know? I'm not her boyfriend."

I narrowed my eyes, the frustration building again. "You work with her. You should know."

"Yeah, I work with her," Linc replied, a cold edge to his voice. "But I'm not interested in her personal life. That's none of my business."

There was something in the way he said it—like Nat wasn't even on his radar—that rubbed me the wrong way. But before I could press him further, he added, almost as an afterthought, "She went to Australia for a week. Missed a lot of work because of it. Just heard she came back to L.A."

Australia? I hadn't known that. I hadn't even realized Nat had left. "She went back to Australia?" I asked, more to myself than to him. Why hadn't I heard anything?

Linc leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if the conversation was getting tedious for him. "Yeah. Missed a few things while she was gone. But she's back now, from what I heard."

I was about to ask more when Linc gave me a pointed look, his expression turning sharper. "Instead of worrying about Sign and Ivy, maybe you should start paying more attention to Nat. She's been spending a lot of time with Travis these past few days."

That hit me like a punch in the gut. Travis? I knew they were friends, and he worked closely with her, but... had I really missed that much? I hadn't even noticed she was gone, and now Linc was telling me she was spending time with Travis? A sense of guilt gnawed at me, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd been too wrapped up in Sign and Ivy to notice what was happening right in front of me with Nat.

Linc watched my reaction, his face still unreadable. "You think I'm the problem, Juls," he said coolly. "But maybe you should take a good look at what's happening in your own life before you come after me."

I didn't have a response to that. My mind was already spinning with everything Linc had said.

***

When I woke up, my head felt like it was split in two, pounding relentlessly. I groaned as I tried to sit up, my limbs heavy and uncooperative. The living room was a disaster: empty bottles of whiskey and beer scattered across the floor, the remnants of a night I barely remembered. I had ended up crashing on the couch, not even making it to my bed.

I reached for my phone, which was lying face down on the coffee table. The cracked screen flickered to life, and a flood of notifications greeted me. Among them, a string of voice messages from me to Nat. My stomach sank as I clicked on them, my heart racing with anxiety.

The first message played back, and my slurred voice was barely recognizable. "Hey, Nat... how are you? Is everything okay?" There was a pause. "I, uh, I heard you went to Australia for a week. I didn't know that... and knowing you, you wouldn't just go there for no reason, not unless it's for a film or something." My words were thick and tangled, each sentence merging into the next. I groaned inwardly, knowing this was only the beginning.

The second message was worse. "So, um, you're back in L.A. now? How long are you staying?" I sounded like I was half-asleep, and I could barely make sense of what I was saying. The incoherence of it all was mortifying.

As I listened to the messages in sequence, it became clear that I had left quite a few. Each one was a rambling mess of questions and half-formed thoughts, my words trailing off or blending together. I had poured out my confusion and concern about her trip, my own state of mind, and my failure to understand why she hadn't contacted me yet.

I played the last message, which seemed to be a mix of frustration and regret. "I guess I'm just wondering... How come you haven't... I don't know, said anything? I didn't expect you to be so... silent."

I threw the phone back on the couch, my face flushed with embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid? I could almost see Nat's reaction—if she even bothered to listen to the messages at all. She was probably annoyed, or worse, upset.

I glanced at the time—it was still early morning. I wondered if she had even seen the messages. The silence was deafening. It felt like a chasm had opened up between us, one that I wasn't sure how to bridge. Had I pushed her away completely with my drunken rambling?

I sank back into the couch, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Why the hell did I do that? Why did I think it was a good idea to contact her like that, especially when things between us had already been rocky?

I checked the time—early morning. Still no reply. I tossed the phone aside, but it didn't help. The fact that Nat hadn't even bothered to say anything stung. Maybe she was too busy. Maybe she was ignoring me. Either way, it felt like something between us had shifted again, and not in a good way.